Pages

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

sixteen: rachel moritz

Rachel Moritz is the
author of Night-Sea (2008) and The Winchester Monologues (2005),
both from New Michigan Press. A third chapbook is forthcoming from Albion Press
in 2013. Recent poems have appeared recently in Aufgabe, Cannibal, Colorado
Review, Iowa Review, TYPO, and Volt. Rachel edits poetry for Konundrum
Engine Literary Review and publishes WinteRed Press, a
Minneapolis-based poetry micropress.

Tell us about your relationship to your art.I’ve always written, since I was a little
girl. However, writing poetry began with seriousness in my early twenties. It
continues to be my most passionate engagement. I find myself more alive and more fulfilled, when
I’m regularly writing poems. I suppose it’s a spiritual practice, along with
trying to love people well, stay in the present as much as possible, etc. What's a project (yours or another's) that has been
exciting you lately?At the moment, there are many poetry books on
my to-read list; I’m way behind. But in my own work, I’ve been tinkering with
picture book stories and taking a break from poems. It’s fun to try my hand at
a new genre, and also, to view the books I’m reading with my two-year-old son as
a continuation of my writing life. This experiment may not lead anyway; still,
the chance to be a beginner again feels enlivening. Tell us a little of your motherhood journey.My motherhood journey has not been simple. I
always wanted to have a child, but found myself at age 30 in a relationship
with a woman, which changed the course of this path. My partner wasn’t planning
on parenthood; it was a conflict we navigated for several years. I was 37 when
I gave birth to Finn, and though this was a dearly sought after dream, the
process was complex. I resisted many aspects of the journey, and I regret that.
But resistance seems to be part of the parenting experience. As is learning to
accept that I dislike many things about being a parent, just as I love endless
things about my son. Overall, I’m grateful to be Finn’s
mother both because I get to know and love him and also have the chance to
seriously grow up. Not that parenthood is necessary for this, but it’s
definitely whipping me into shape.What are some crucial elements of your process? How
has that changed since having children?I’m not sure that my process has changed much
since having Finn, except that I write less frequently. I’ve also found that
short solo retreats have been necessary to draft substantial new material. And
I’m probably even more of an unconscious writer; I often don’t know what’s
there until I sit down at the blank screen (or notebook). What are some of the ways your family
and your art interact?My partner is a writer,
too; we divide up our weekends so both of us have creative time, and we use the
upstairs apartment of our duplex as studio when it’s not rented out. This means
that Finn is used to spending time with one or the other of us, and sometimes
it’s sad not to have family weekend activities. But if I didn’t have an
uninterrupted half-day of solitude every week, I wouldn’t write. I also know
that I’d feel like I was going nuts. So I’ll take it!Do you find your attitude towards your art might be
different because of your parenting / has it changed since you became a parent?I suppose I acknowledge more the importance
of solitude for my creative practice, and for my life. I understand in a really
practical way how difficult it remains to grow and develop an artist when you’re
working to earn money and working at the role of parent. There’s only so much
time and energy in one human body. I’m more motivated to figure out, long-term,
how to create a life that supports my growth as a writer. How will I “fund” a
sabbatical when I’m not a professor, etc.? What do I really want to accomplish
as a poet? I find myself more fiercely an advocate of arts funding, of individual
fellowships to artists. It’s all just more real. At the same time, I feel that
relationships are the most humbling work we undertake in our time here on
earth. As much as I value writing, there are many days where it doesn’t seem that
important. So I’m trying to keep things in perspective, too.

Are your children ever subjects in your art?
[If yes, how so? If no, why not?/How do you feel about the
concept of using parents using children in their art?]

Finn as a symbolic figure, child, makes his
appearance in my poems. I feel that artists generally use and don’t use the
literal substance of their work; both seem important, and necessary!How does travel figure into your art? Do/did your
children come along? How has that worked out?When Finn was an infant, we were able to
retreat to a few cabins and break up the mornings or afternoons so that one
person could write while the other cared for him. This is less doable with a
toddler. But when he was 18 months old, we all spent a week in Nova Scotia. One
poet/mother whisked him away for a morning while the other person wrote. It
sounds blissful, but Finn didn’t sleep well on that trip and we were zombies most of the time!. Still, I’m excited to
do more traveling as a family—and travel filled with better rest—as Finn gets
older. He loves trips, and I hope we’ll have many adventures during his
childhood.What about promoting the arts with
your own children--any fun projects to share? Finn enjoys music of all kinds, so we spend a
lot of time singing or listening to songs. We read many books; we’ve also
enjoyed the wonderful puppet shows at Heart of the Beast Theater (in
Minneapolis). I hope our forays into art-of-all-kinds expand as he grows older.
How do you escape?Reading, walks by the river, a glass of wine with
a good friend.What advice do you have for expectant mothers in your
field?

People (at least Americans) are a little pollyannaish about parenting; most
people don’t prepare you for how difficult it is. Or, maybe not the difficulty
but the intense journey from one state of being to another, and the loss
involved. Find people who will be
honest with you. Also, find folks who can support you in practical ways. And
for yourself, know that your job—at least for a little while—is as much about
acceptance and letting go as striving toward your own goals. I wish I’d been a
lot less hard on myself during the first (and now, second) year. I was so
tired, and my expectations—not necessarily for things I’d accomplish but for
things I wanted to maintain in my life—were too high. If I’d watched even more
tv than I did, it would have been just fine. Also, read Adrienne Rich’s, Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and
Institution! Just as relevant now as the day she published it.